The Donquixotes
by cancerous cactus
Summary: The Donquixotes—sorta like The Kardashians, just with more kidnappings and organized crime. Law really shouldn't have skipped out on Christmas dinner.


**AN:** another new fic instead of working on the one i really want to—spanish part is basically cora telling law that he's booked his flight and it's also based of off google translate and two yers of spanish in middle school so it's probably bad corrections are welcome

word count: 1324

* * *

Law fumbles with the lock on his door, he's had a long shift and a longer ride home. Immediately after opening it, he's assaulted with Penguin and his ridiculously over the top exaggerations of how hot some guy name "Killer" was. Obviously, his taste was to be questioned.

"No, Law, listen, I promise you, if you saw his _hair-_ "

Law migrates onto the couch, attempting and failing to block out Penguin and all the _noise_ the other man makes.

"No." Law mumbles into the couch cushion. Many hours were spent in this position, lying on his stomach, premating the air with his sulky vibes.

"Laaaaaaww," a needy whine leaves his "friend" and the man collapses onto Law dramatically. "Listen to me." Penguin grumbles into the back of the surgeon's neck.

"That is not an effective argument Penguin."

"I shouldn't have to argue to get your attention."

"No."

"I've annoyed you back to monosyllabic arguments now?"

"Fuck off." Law counters childishly, and squirms as gracefully as he can out from under the smaller nurse. Smoothing out his wrinkled shirt, Law stalks inside his bedroom and closes the door with a pointed look. Hopefully Penguin won't try and bust down the door again (that day had been particularly eventful and had only ended in a bruised shoulder and a busted up door). As entertaining as Penguin in pain is, Law really doesn't want a repeat. Contrary to popular belief, Law doesn't look forward to seeing those in pain, if only because that means he has to fix them.

He takes some time to dial Cora's number, if only to postpone the the inevitable conversation about Cora's seven cats and Sheryll, an old lady he goes power walking with on Sundays who made her fortune on marrying rich and masterminding the murder of each and everyone of her six husbands.

"Right on time, Law. I was beginning to worry since you weren't your usual ten minutes early."

"No, I just got a little tied up for a bit. Penguin's found another man to prattle on endlessly about."

"You sound exhausted _mijo_." At this Law tenses up, knowing Cora he wouldn't be surprised if the man forcibly made him take a long vacation. Yet another reason they don't talk much.

"I'm _fine_." Law stresses quietly and prays to whoever's up there to that Cora will believe him and _let it go._

"Yeah, _tú no sonar bien_." There's a pause and Cora sighs a bit, " _Esta vez lo dejaré pasar_ , Law. _No quiero discutir contigo_."

Privately, Law thinks that this can only mean that Cora is planning to kidnap him for a fun, high class get-away with Sheryll. They do only talk once a blue moon, might as well seize and exploit the hell out of this opportunity to change the subject.

"How's Sheryll?" Law asks and studiously ignores the gasp from the other end. No one will know that he actually listens to what Cora says. Nobody. There's a line of rapid Spanish coming from the other line and Law makes small noises in agreement to show he's still listening. He can't help but feel nostalgic, listening to his native language spoken by none other than the man that pulled him out of hell himself.

" _Así que nada, acabo de enviar un correo electrónico a su jefe pidiendo una semana libre para venir a visitarme. Creo que te estás haciendo demasiado trabajo."_

At this Law sits up and groans. He knew this would happen. He wouldn't be surprised if his boss did actually give him the week off, the woman was a known fan of Cora's and was really surprised when Law asked to work there. "If I knew you were _this_ lonely," Law snaps quietly, "I would've called Sheryll to stay with you for a while. Or bought you a new cat. You're a famous actor, you could have all the company in the world and yet you want mine. I'm in New York, you're in California. You expect me to get in the car and hop on a plane just because you want to see me?"

" _Ahora estoy en París. Ya he reservado el boleto para usted._ " There's a shaky breath from across the line, "I just want to see my son."

Law starts packing his bags. _Damn you Cora,_ he thinks, shoving his shit into a nearby bag, _damn you._

* * *

"Penguin!" Law calls from his room, grabbing his bag and his wallet, "I'm going on a vacation, don't call me or I'll cut off your dick!"

A curious head pops into his doorway, "Corazon again?" Penguin asks wryly, staring openly at Law's disheveled state, "when are you leaving?" He asks as Law rushes past him, sifting through his toiletries.

"Two hours."

"Oh… _oh_ you need to _leave._ "

"Yeah." Law looks up from shoving his toothbrush in a bag, "I know."

"How long will you be gone?" Penguin deftly hands Law his hair products, in tandem with the other man as this wasn't as rare occasion as Law would like to make it out to be.

"Just the week."

"Okay," Penguin waves Law out the door, "don't get kidnapped."

"Hah." Penguin knows without looking that there's a smug grin planted firmly on the lips of his best friend. "Who, _me_?"

* * *

His neck hurts.

Now this in itself wasn't _that_ strange considering he _should_ be in the airplane, making his way to Paris. What was strange, however, were his bound hands. He doesn't remember engaging in some interesting foreplay on the plane, much less getting _on_ the plane itself. It hasn't been this difficult to open his eyes since Med School. He groans, shifting and testing out the range of movement in his neck when he remembers. A taxi, a redhead, and blunt force trauma to the back of his head.

 _Oh,_ Law thinks darkly, _oh that fucker_.

"I see sleeping beauty has finally woken up." Law peels his left eye open to meet the stare of a ginning redhead through a rearview mirror. He groans again, realizing exactly where he is. A 1990 Honda Accord, it smells like sweat, cigarette smoke, and those cheap pine tree shaped air fresheners you put on the rearview mirror.

"This is Penguin's fault." Law rasps out to the roof of the car, attempting to stretch his stiff legs out, but failing miserably.

"Nah," his captor intones, shit eating grin taking up most of his face, "this is your own damn fault."

Maybe it is, but that's the last thing that Law would tell _anyone. On pain of death._ "You've pissed off one of the most powerful people in this country, maybe in the whole world, _Doctor._ " The redhead says, looking back at him through the rearview mirror. Law, unfortunately cannot recognize where the fuck they are.

"Oh?" Law says, pushing down whatever panic his body might be feeling, "I don't suppose you can tell me the name of this person?"

"He calls himself Joker." He says, searching for something in Law's face but not seeming to find it, judging by the disappointed look in his eyes.

"Joker…" Law mutters under his breath, trying to put a name to a face and cringing when he does.

 _Doflamingo._

Or as Cora would have Law call him, Uncle Doffy.

 _He must still be pissed off I didn't visit during Christmas._

"Can you at least take these constraints off?" Law asks as he shifts around to get in a more comfortable spot.

"No," Kidd answers incredulously, "what kind of kidnapping do you think this is?"

"One not nearly as exciting as you probably think, for sure." Law answers with a sigh.

He should at least try and get comfortable.


End file.
